Faith
by Cressida Isolde
Summary: Elspeth Trevelyan relies on her faith and her family in times of hardship. The attack on the Conclave damaged both. Navigating this new world alone is proving to be difficult.
1. Chapter 1

The Haven chantry was a respite from the world outside; the glare of the sun on the ice and snow, the high mountain chill and biting wind. The stone it was built from trapped whatever heat it could, and the torches guttering against the pillars cast warm pools of light into the dark. It was late, now, and the few remaining Chantry sisters had withdrawn for the night, leaving the hall empty.

The Herald sat, in half darkness, on a pew that had been pushed to the very back of the room. Her arms rested on her knees and her hands were clasped tightly together.

"I thought I might find you here."

She looked up, startled. "Commander. I'm sorry, have you been looking for me?"

"Uh – yes, Lady Trevelyan. I-"

"Elspeth," she said.

"Lady Elspeth," he began.

She smiled weakly. "Just Elspeth. Please. When you don't have to, at least." She'd learned a long time ago the trick of making even the most forced smile seem genuine - just a tightening of the muscles around the eyes - but it didn't seem to work any more.

He was frowning, and she realised he'd said something.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Could you repeat that, please?"

"I said, in that case it's Cullen. Would you mind if I sat down?"

She shook her head.

He lowered himself into the pew next to her. "I understand you're to begin the journey to the Hinterlands tomorrow at first light," he said. "It's - after midnight."

She could see snowflakes on the fur around his shoulders slowly starting to melt. "Yes," she said. "I should retire shortly."

His gaze was measuring, evaluating, and she couldn't hold it.

"Cassandra told me you once met the Hero of Ferelden," she said.

The abrupt subject change had startled him. "That's – true," he admitted. "Although the circumstances under which we met were-" he paused. "Difficult. To be honest, I don't remember as much as I should." His shoulders were tense; his jaw set.

"What do you remember?" she asked.

He sighed. "She was quiet," he said. "Calm. She was – gentler than she had to be, as well. I'll never forget that."

"Sorry," she said. "If this is difficult for you. I shouldn't have asked."

"It isn't," he said, hesitantly. "It shouldn't be. She saved my life. I – I never thanked her for it."

"Do you think she minds?"

He looked up at her. "I doubt it," he said. "She has far more important things to bother with now, after all."

Elspeth looked down at her hands, tightly clasped in her lap. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't mean to make it sound like Cassandra and I were gossiping about you. She keeps telling me stories - to inspire me, I think."

"I have some difficulty imagining Cassandra gossiping," Cullen said dryly.

Elspeth smiled, without looking up.

"And are you feeling inspired?" he continued. "You have - a lot to deal with, at the moment."

The smile slowly faded from her face. "Herald of Andraste," she said, quietly. She spread her hands in a shrug, but the mark on her hand flared bright green and she quickly balled her fist again, pulling it close to her chest. "I can't say it's a title that sits easily."

"I did question the decision to encourage people to call you that," he said. "It pulls in a lot of early support, yes, but it's made some enemies as well. And, of course, it's always risky to pin something like that on someone who isn't actually conscious."

"Encouraged," she repeated.

"I'll be honest, yes," he said. "It was encouraged rather than just 'not discouraged'."

"So this is a show, then," she said, her throat constricting. "We're just straight up putting on a show."

"That depends on you," he said carefully. "Who you are. What you believe."

"What do you think I am?" She almost didn't want to hear his answer.

"I think it's unusually fortuitous that someone with the ability to close rifts in the Fade showed up at the exact same time that a large number of these rifts showed up and started spilling out demons," he said. "That's really as far as I'm willing to go right now."

She closed her eyes. "It's - foolish," she said. "I know what the Chantry says about the Maker speaking to us, but - I keep coming to the temple here because I expect something to happen. A sign. _Something_. Andraste had visions. I have - Cassandra's determination." She sighed. "Which is substantial, I'll admit."

"You want it to be true."

She shifted uncomfortably. "If it's not true then it's blasphemy. 'Those who bear false witness' and so forth."

"Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide." He glanced sideways at her. "If you walk in the Maker's light, you will not falter. And, for what it's worth, I have no doubt we are."

She bowed her head. "Thank you," she said. "That's - helpful. To do nothing, under these circumstances, would be far worse."

"I didn't know you were so devout," he said.

It seemed like a challenge. "The Chantry has been important to my family for generations," she said. "I followed in the road laid out for me. I-" she hesitated, lowering her voice. "I liked the stories. Chantry history. The people behind the myths. It - seems foolish now."

"I'm sorry you got caught up in this," he said. "For what it's worth."

"I'd rather not think about my other options," said Elspeth. "As I'm not sure I have any. This seems to be the only road worth following at the moment."

"I'm glad to hear it," he said.

She leaned her head on her hand. "I hope I shall not live to disappoint."

If Cullen noticed her choice of words, he didn't say anything. "I - did want to say something to you," he said, after a moment.

She looked up uneasily, bracing herself for the words to come.

"The first time we met - on the mountain." He shook his head. "I said something to Cassandra, when you were there. Something like-" he shrugged a shoulder. "'I hope she's worth it, we've lost a lot of men getting her to this point'." He turned towards her. "And the look on your face - I just-" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I hadn't considered how that would sound after being told you're the only survivor of the Conclave. I apologise."

Whatever she had been preparing herself for, it wasn't this. She dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands. "I don't remember anything of that day," she said, trying to keep her voice level. "Mercifully, perhaps."

"In that case, I'm sorry for bringing it up again," he said. "I only wanted to assure you that it was not my intention to add to your burden. It - has been weighing on my mind for some time."

She focused on his frown, the concerned furrow between his eyebrows. "Thank you," she said, a little stiffly. "This has been - I'm not really sure how to even begin-"

"Whatever else happens," he said. "I hope you realise that this isn't your fault. And it's not your fault that you're the only survivor, either."

She stood up, turning her face into the shadow. "I fear I'm a poor trade for Justinia," she said. "Or, indeed, most of those attending the Conclave. Goodnight, Commander." She paused. "Cullen. I should retire - as you suggested - so I may leave in the morning."

"Of course." He stood, and inclined his head.

She nodded back, and walked away, pushing open the chantry door. Snowflakes were still falling from the sky. The village of Haven looked almost frozen in time, silent and still.

She stopped for a moment at the door, looking up at the swirling green vortex of the Breach, moving in a slow spiral into the sky. She looked back, once, inside the Chantry, with the warm lights burning low and the stained glass windows glinting gently, before closing the door behind her and retreating to the room she had been given.


	2. Chapter 2

Mother Giselle was the type of priestess Elspeth was used to. Warm, comforting, minimising her own needs. But iron-strong beneath, and staggeringly effective when necessary. Elspeth still wasn't sure how she'd made it back to Haven before her.

She'd been on her way to talk to her, but there was a commotion outside the Chantry doors as she approached. Her first instinct was to turn and leave, but Varric was behind her, watching with a knowing half-smirk on his face.

"You'll face far worse in Val Royeaux," he said. "Think of it as practice."

The voices became clearer as they approached.

"This Inquisition is a farce," Chancellor Roderick said. "You're acting against the Maker and his laws."

"So you presume to speak for the Maker?" asked Cullen. She could almost hear the eye-roll in his voice.

"I do no such thing," said the Chancellor. "I simply want to know how you're going to solve all the problems you say you are."

Elspeth hadn't realised she'd slowed almost to a halt until an elbow in the back from Varric sent her stumbling forward.

"Ah," said Chancellor Roderick. "The _Herald_. Do you have any wisdom from the Maker to dispense?"

She almost took a step back at the venom in his eyes.

"If you have something to say to her, you can say it to me," said Cullen. The green gleam of the Breach on the steel of his armour made her feel almost ill.

"I'm sorry," said the Chancellor. "Does the Herald need an interpreter?"

"Chancellor Roderick," said Elspeth, hoarsely. "I - appreciate your concern, if you would believe it so."

"You _appreciate _it?" he asked. "Well, how does that help? You need to face the justice of the Chantry. You need a trial-"

"I agree," said Elspeth, bowing her head. "And were there a Divine I should hasten to Val Royeaux to submit myself to her judgment."

"You're not serious," said Cullen. "You won't get anything close to a fair trial."

"I am serious," said Elspeth, turning to look at him. "When a new Divine is chosen I will accept whatever judgment she wishes to pass on me. Until then, however-" She turned back to the Chancellor. "I intend to continue to do what I can to help those that need it."

"And you'll just carry on in the meantime, claiming to be the Herald of Andraste." His voice sounded less vitriolic now, less certain.

She was about to deny it, to shrug off the title like a stifling blanket, but she was suddenly aware of the crowd around her, watching her wordlessly.

"If the Divine disagrees," she said, carefully. "I will face whatever punishment they deem necessary." The words weren't _quite_ right, but they were sufficient. "I am truly sorry, Chancellor," she continued. "For the loss of the Divine Justinia and - so many others. We have all suffered a great loss."

The Chancellor held her gaze for a long moment, then turned and walked back down the hill. Elspeth closed her eyes.

"The rest of you, too," said Cullen. "Back to your duties."

Elspeth took the opportunity to leave, in the opposite direction from the Chancellor.

"You handled that well," said Varric, catching up to her.

"It made me want to throw up," she said.  
>"Really?" he asked, apprehensively.<p>

She sighed. "Yeah, a little bit. Confrontation. Public speaking. Not really fantastic at either."

"Wow," he said. "Becoming Herald of Andraste isn't really a great career move for you, then."

Elspeth laughed, despite herself.

"I noticed you dancing around that too, by the way," Varric continued. "Not quite an acceptance, not quite a denial."

"I'm not sure it will make much of a difference, in the end."

"How serious about that whole 'trial by Divine' were you?" he asked. "Because you know it's not going to be fair."

"Does it really matter at that point?" asked Elspeth. "If we assume the new Divine won't be chosen before the Breach is closed and thus the threat removed, I won't be essential any longer."

"Don't tell me you're prepared to take the fall for the attack on the Conclave," he said. "For what? There's no point."

"Sometimes it's necessary," said Elspeth.

"You people are real into self-sacrifice, you know that? You remember what happened to Andraste, right?"

She grinned. "Yes, I occasionally have cause to think about what happened to Andraste. It's just-" She stopped, her boots sinking into the snow. "What do you think our chances of surviving to that point are, Varric? High?"

"Uh - wouldn't say that, exactly."

"Then if we go along with whatever's left of the Chantry we get an amount of support - probably nominal - and odds are I won't stay alive long enough for someone to set me on fire." She shrugged.

"Huh," he said. "Interesting. I won't insult you by asking which version of this truth you believe. Consider my estimation of our chances of survival revised slightly upwards."

"So now I'm more likely to get set on fire?" she asked, mock-offended. "Wow. Thanks, Varric, I appreciate it."

"You're welcome," he said. "You can always rely on me for a realistic assessment of the range of unpleasant deaths we're likely to face." He glanced behind them. "And of course I wasn't the only one to notice your little show."

Elspeth turned back to see Leliana picking her way down the path towards them.

"Be careful with this one," he said, lowering his voice. "The sister plays hardball"

"Hard-what?" she asked, but he was already disappearing away from her down the path.

"My lady Herald," said Leliana, raising her voice. "A moment of your time, if you would be so kind."

"Of course, sister Leliana," said Elspeth, waiting for her to reach her.

Leliana smiled, her hair ruffled under her hood, the strands tousled about her face. "I wanted to - apologise for Chancellor Roderick's words. Although, it seems you were able to handle them quite adequately by yourself."

Elspeth returned the smile wearily. "There's no need," she said. "He's - scared. Which I don't consider to be unreasonable, given the circumstances. I'm scared too, in truth."

"There is good reason to be," agreed Leliana. "I - wanted to see how you were adjusting. This must be a very different life than what you are used to, no?"

"Yes," said Elspeth. "You could say that. I've seen - things I never thought I would. Or should." She clasped her hands behind her back. "Tell me, do you ever get used to it?"

"Get used to what, exactly?"

"The smell of bodies that have been lying in the sun for a week." Elspeth had tried to sound strong, defiant, even, but her voice shook on the last few words.

Leliana's face remained serene. "Yes," she said. "You do. And worse. Darkspawn are particularly bad. We had to burn them because of the taint, you see, and after the Blight there were tens of thousands lying in the fields and cities. Denerim itself was particularly bad." She smiled. "Was that the answer you were looking for?"

Elspeth sighed. "I don't know," she said. "Perhaps."

"The people questioned the Blight then as they do the Breach now," said Leliana. "They wonder why it is happening to them."

"The Chantry's interpretation would be that this is a test," said Elspeth, but she could hear the uncertainty in her own voice. She wasn't sure if Leliana could hear it as well, but thought it was likely. "A test of our faith. A test of our ability to respond to a threat. To rebuild."

"Yes," said Leliana. "When a new Divine is chosen I expect that will be the first thing she will say. If the Chantry was not so paralysed by the events at the Conclave they would have issued a statement already." She paused. "As Herald of Andraste," she said. "You could issue it yourself, you know." Her voice was so sweet and light it seemed as if she were suggesting nothing more than a picnic.

"I - don't think so." The idea made Elspeth's insides turn cold.

"Why not?" asked Leliana. "You believe it, do you not?"

"I do not wish to step on the Chantry's toes by interpreting the words of the Maker," she said. "I do not imagine such an announcement would win many favours with them."

"With_ them, _no," said Leliana. "But the Chantry is in disarray. The people, however, would welcome guidance while the Chantry remains silent."

"Are you encouraging me to invent platitudes to win the masses' favour?" asked Elspeth.

"Of course not," said Leliana. "I would do no such thing,"

"Of course not," echoed Elspeth, faintly.

"In any case, you have listened to my complaints long enough," said Leliana, looking down modestly. "After all, I am not the only one who lost someone important to me at the Conclave, am I? Friends, colleagues - family. Do you not agree?"

Elspeth smiled reflexively. "I'm sure nearly everyone in Haven right now will have lost someone important to them," she said, stiffly.

"Undoubtedly." Leliana's gaze was cool and clear.

Elspeth clenched her hands together. "Sister Leliana," she began. "I am sure I must be somewhat more - challenging to work with than the Divine Justinia. Less experienced, less informed. Less well-versed in the ways of politics."

"You have many similarities," said Leliana.

"That is kind of you to say," said Elspeth. "But I must apologise if I seem ungrateful for your advice. There is much I still have to learn."

Leliana smiled as if she'd discovered a secret. "Of course, my lady Herald," she said. "If I may ask - have you heard of the Grand Game?"

"In passing only," said Elspeth, frowning in confusion.

"Of course," said Leliana. "You may be a strong player if you ever decide to turn your mind in its direction. But this is not the time to speak of such things. You have far more important things to concern yourself with, and I shall take my leave. Farewell, my lady Herald."

"Sister," acknowledged Elspeth, inclining her head. She shivered in the cold mountain air as she watched Leliana returned to her tent.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun had barely risen as Elspeth left her room. Her breath misted in front of her as she walked, and the early morning cold cut almost to her bones, but the heat of the blacksmith's fire was like a blistering wall of heat as she approached.

"I need gloves," Elspeth said to Harritt.

He turned around, and looked her up and down. "You're an archer, aren't you?" he asked, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "So you'll need a bow hand and a release hand. Which is your bow hand? You want one of those basic thumb and index finger protectors?"

"Left," she said. "Can I get a full hand fingerless for the left? Standard three-fingers is fine for the right."

He frowned. "You're sacrificing a lot of flexibility if you want that much cover for your left," he said. "Especially with hands that small. You'd have to go for something really soft. I'd suggest nugskin. Snoufleur. Halla, maybe,"

"What about deepstalker hide?" she asked.

He folded his arms. "Reptile skin loses its elasticity a lot quicker than leather," he said. "Deepstalker in particular. Bringing it out into the sun makes it worse. I wouldn't recommend it."

"I'll take nugskin," she said, frustrated. "I just - I need to keep it covered."

Harritt frowned, "The Mark?"

"It - keeps me awake at night," she admitted, trying to smile. "It's too bright. Lights up the room like a candle. Can't do a thing about it."

He gave her a long look. "Alright," he said, "Nugskin it is. Pretty easy to get up here, at least. Come back in the morning."

"Thank you," she said, and turned around to see Josephine behind her.

"Excuse me," said Josephine, smiling. "Might I have a word?"

"I - certainly," said Elspeth.

"Please excuse me for asking," said Josephine. "I couldn't help but overhear - the Mark is bright enough to light your room up at night?"

Elspeth laughed, embarrassed. "Yes, actually. I could probably read by it. I'm sorry, were you here to see the blacksmith?"

Josephine held up an ornate dagger in one hand "I was going to ask about getting the blade replaced," she said. "It is quite old now."

"I didn't know you fought with daggers," said Elspeth.

Josephine smiled. "Ah, well," she said. "It has been a long time since I used them. But, times being what they are - it may be prudent to refamiliarise myself with their use."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," said Elspeth.

"Hope may not be enough," said Josephine, smiling ruefully.

The breath caught in Elspeth's throat. "N-no," she managed. "Of course not."

Josephine noticed the change in her mood. "Forgive me," she said. "I did not mean that as an admonishment. It is easy to become too serious at times like these."

"When all you're facing is the end of the world?" Elspeth's smile was brittle. "Of course. If you'd excuse me - "I was going to walk down to the dock."

"Were you really?" asked Josephine. "I have not seen it since we arrived. At first, I did not think it could compare to the ports of Antiva, but now - I miss the sound of my footsteps on wooden planks enough for it not to matter. Would you mind if I came with you?"  
>"I - no," said Elspeth. "Of course not."<p>

They set off down the path together, footsteps crunching in the snow. A family of nugs scattered as they approached. Elspeth watched the smallest chase after the rest, scurrying to try to catch up.

"The lake is frozen, of course," said Josephine. "A pity. It is the sound of the waves I miss the most."

Elspeth glanced sideways at her. "That's why I come down here," she said. "I - in Ostwick, I could hear waves breaking against the cliffs below from my bedroom at night. Up here in the mountains, if you hear crashing noises at night, it's likely to be something a lot less benign."

"Sometimes the trees can sound like waves," said Josephine wistfully. "When the wind is blowing."

Elspeth stepped onto the jetty. "A little," she said.

The frozen lake gleamed in the morning sunlight. The bare trees at the edges were stiff and fragile, delicate icicles hanging from their branches.

"Antiva City is built around the ports," said Josephine. "It is - a riot of sound and colour and music. Dancing, singing, duels. The best restaurants, as well."

"You must find Haven quite different by comparison," said Elspeth.

"As, I'm sure, do you," said Josephine. "But yes, it is an adjustment. It is - very quiet."

"I'm glad for the silence," said Elspeth. "Sometimes."

"Was it true?" asked Josephine. "About your mark, I mean."

It took a moment before Elspeth realised what she was saying. "That it lights up my room at night? Yes, unfortunately."

"And that's why you want to keep it covered?"

Elspeth sat down on the end of the jetty, her feet just touching the ice below. She tried to imagine the water warm and salty, lapping at her bare toes. "I don't like looking at it," she said, quietly.

"That - must be hard to adjust to as well," said Josephine.

Elspeth smiled, but didn't reply.

Josephine lowered herself onto the jetty next to her. "I wanted to ask you something," she said. "We have met before, have we not?" It took me some time to remember, but your face looked familiar."

Elspeth's eyes widened. "Have we?"

"At Lady Trevelyan's Summer ball," said Josephine. "Four - maybe five - years ago. You wore grey, if I recall correctly."

"Your memory far exceeds my own, Lady Montilyet," admitted Elspeth. "I - no, wait." She was suddenly hit with a whirlwind of images: tables laden with food; candles burning brightly in bunches; velvet drapery that her great aunt had ordered in for the occasion. A dark-eyed girl with a quick smile. "You had a sister."

Josephine's face lit up. "Yes, Yvette," she said. "She will be so pleased you remember her. You two spent some time together that night, did you not? Yvette told me you were playing some game involving stealing people's drinks."

Elspeth laughed, almost in disbelief. "Oh, no," she said. "That's right. I fear I was something of a bad influence. Please accept my apologies on behalf of your family." She could feel a blush spreading all the way from her chest to her cheeks.

"But of course, my Lady." Josephine bowed her head primly, just a shade too deep to be meant seriously.

"I must have been - maybe sixteen?" said Elspeth. "I don't know how I didn't get in more trouble for that."

"I would guess that you got away with it because you were so entertaining to watch," said Josephine. "You and Yvette rather charmed the Comte de Sauvaterre."

"He must have been eighty years old," said Elspeth. "I really can't believe you were there. And that you remember this."

"Closer to ninety, I think," said Josephine, unable to keep from smiling. "There was another of you troublemakers, was there not? A young man. Also a Trevelyan, I think."

"Oh," said Elspeth, the smile slipping from her face. "Yes. Kellan. A cousin."

Josephine's slight frown at Elspeth's change in demeanor was the only sign she noticed anything had changed, but it was replaced with a polite smile a moment later. "I shall pass on your regards to Yvette," she said, lifting herself back onto the jetty.

"Please," murmured Elspeth.

She listened to Josephine's footsteps as they faded behind her, watching the snow as it drifted slowly over the frozen lake.


End file.
